


child's play

by jangjoos



Category: ONEUS (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Established Relationship, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Other, Polyamory, Prank Wars, gratuitous use of the word "baby", there is a couch fort involved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-18
Updated: 2020-05-18
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:46:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24249010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jangjoos/pseuds/jangjoos
Summary: In which Seoho and Dongju declare a prank war on Geonhak, and it doesn't take long for things to go south.
Relationships: Kim Geonhak | Leedo/Lee Seoho, Kim Geonhak | Leedo/Son Dongju | Xion, Kim Geonhak | Leedo/Son Dongju | Xion/Lee Seoho, Lee Seoho/Son Dongju | Xion
Comments: 11
Kudos: 124





	child's play

“Ju.” 

Seoho’s been tapping on his shoulder over the couch for a while now. Dongju struggles to ignore him, but he persists, continuing to focus as much attention as he can on the drama he was watching before his annoying and disruptive boyfriend had so rudely interrupted him. 

“Ju, please.”

More tapping. It’s really beginning to get on his nerves. Eventually, the tapping escalates to Seoho poking at his cheeks, and given a few more minutes, that turns to him repeatedly scratching at his head. Still, Dongju resists. Things are a bit more tolerable now that the drama episode has begun to show actual plot rather than filler. 

“Dongju. Baby.” 

And that’s what finally gets his attention. In their relationship, the word  _ baby  _ has all but officially been established as  _ Geonhak’s  _ pet name for Dongju, and very occasionally, Seoho’s pet name for Geonhak. Seoho’s never been one for pet names, or public displays of affection in general, often turning his nose at his boyfriends whenever he deems that they’re acting  _ too mushy _ for him to handle, even if he actively does the same to them in private. He’s like a cat, one that will incessantly bother someone for attention only to act like they don’t know them as soon as they’ve been given said attention. 

“What is it, sugarplum?” Dongju asks in the slimiest and greasiest voice that he could muster, chuckling internally at the way Seoho visibly cringes in response. If Seoho’s going to be annoying, he might as well play his game. 

“So,” Seoho begins casually, trying to lean on the couch but instead slipping on the floor. Dongju had just waxed them. They were slippery. He recovers remarkably smoothly and continues speaking as if nothing’s happened. 

“I want to play a prank on Doya.”

Dongju feels a groan well up in his throat. It feels like this conversation comes up between them every single week.

“I’m not going to be mean to Geonhak,” he says firmly. “He’s too good for this world.”

“I’m not planning to be mean to him! I’m never mean to him!”

Dongju raises an eyebrow. “Yeah. Tell me about the time you confiscated all his shovels and surrounded his Animal Crossing house with six rows of pitfall seeds?” 

Seoho frowns with all the innocence of a lone raccoon standing next to an overturned trash can. “That wasn’t mean, was it?”

“It took him ten minutes to get out of that.”

“And it took me two hours to lay it all out! Maybe  _ he  _ was being mean to  _ me  _ for making me go that far!”

“I don’t-- that’s not--” Dongju pauses, then sighs. Sometimes, it’s so hard to believe that Seoho’s the oldest out of the three of them. 

“And it’s not like you’re never mean to him, Ju,” Seoho says stubbornly. “I’ve seen his forearms. I know you’re the source of all those bite marks.”

Dongju’s face heats up. He’s always liked to pretend that Seoho doesn’t know about the biting, but he also knows that there’s hardly a thing in the world that Geonhak wouldn’t tell Seoho about. 

“Fine,” he says, slumping into the couch. “But tell me, what did he do this time?”

“I don’t really. Um. Remember. But!” 

“-It’s an excuse for you to be annoying?”

Seoho grins at him, one of those grins that turn his eyes into crescent moons and his boyfriends into besotted piles of mush. He leans over the couch and gives Dongju two firm pats on the head. “You know me so well, baby.” 

That second  _ baby  _ makes Dongju’s heart tumble like Seoho whenever he feels like showing off his gymnastic skills in the tiny space of their living room before inevitably bumping into a wall or tripping over one of Geonhak’s dumbbells, but he tries not to let it show. Instead, he smiles sheepishly and looks back over at the television, only to find that he no longer knows whatever the hell is happening in the drama. Dammit. He should’ve paused it.

“I’ll buy you bubble tea,” Seoho tells him. “With those weird expensive coconut pearls. How about that?”

And Dongju cracks. He pauses the drama (character development!) and turns to face him again.

“Fine. What do you want me to do?”

* * *

Dongju wants to say that he rarely gets involved in Geonhak and Seoho’s petty squabbles, but he would almost certainly be lying to himself. While fights between Seoho and Dongju tend to be low-key and passive-aggressive, and fights between Dongju and Geonhak are usually self-contained and rare, there never seems to be a day that passes without Seoho and Geonhak bickering with each other at least once. When their fights aren’t contained in contests of physical strength and League 1v1 prowess, they’re whiney, they’re explosive, and they end up involving everything around them; more often than not, that ‘everything’ includes Dongju.

It’s about seven o’clock in the evening, and Geonhak’s staying late at the school because of parent-teacher interviews, giving the two of them plenty of time to plot his downfall. It makes Dongju feel a little bad, the fact that they’re subjecting their boyfriend to this after a day of dealing with children and an evening of dealing with their  _ parents _ , but the thought of pranking him also gives him a tiny thrill.

“So,” Seoho says, clicking his pen. “I don’t want to do anything to hurt or humiliate him, but it’d be fun to give him a series of mild inconveniences. How about we--” he draws a line across the piece of paper in front of him “move all of his workout equipment slightly to the left?”

Seoho and Dongju are huddled inside a fort they built out of the couch cushions, a step that Dongju had deemed necessary for creating the optimal environment for brainstorming. Dongju has his iPhone flashlight open to provide light, and Seoho brought a pen and clipboard to draft their plans on. It’s like renting out a room for conferences instead of just gathering around the boss’s desk. Absolutely essential. 

Dongju raises an eyebrow. He’s snuggled to Seoho’s side and looking over his shoulder at the clipboard. Also absolutely essential due to the limited space within their cushion fort. “And?”

“Uh. That’s it. We move his workout equipment. He’ll be pissed.”

Dongju stifles a sigh. That comes right out of the Lee Seoho playbook; get excited about a single neat idea and stop to share it before he works out any sort of substance to it. But that’s why he’s there, he supposes. To help him work out the details. 

“Well, yes, he’ll be pissed, but--” Dongju suddenly stops, then squints at the single black line on Seoho’s piece of paper. “Did you really need that?”

“It’s for the aesthetic,” Seoho tells him with a handwave. “But go on. What are you insinuating here?”

“We could go further.” Dongju leans closer, voice dropping conspiratorially. “I hate suggesting it, but...What if we move everything in the house?”

Seoho’s eyes widen. “And you’d be okay with that?”

There’s a point to that. Dongju absolutely hates it when things in the house are out of place, and he happens to be extremely sensitive to it. Once, when Geonhak had moved the paper towel rack from the east counter next to the rice cooker to the west counter next to the coffee machine, he’d almost thrown a fit.

“Mhm,” Dongju says, because thinking about the whole plan...Well...He’s still a tiny bit mad about the Paper Towel Incident. Something of equal calibre wouldn’t nearly draw the same reaction from Geonhak. No, they’d need to do much more. 

He leans down and rests his head in Seoho’s lap. “We’ll do it little by little. Room by room, maybe. Not enough for him to suspect us--”

“But enough to make him think he’s slowly going insane,” Seoho finishes for him, idly burying his hands in his hair, which makes him practically  _ purr  _ from the contact. “Holy shit Ju, you’re an evil genius.”

Dongju looks up at him, fluttering his eyelashes. “I learned from the best,” he says, to which Seoho laughs and ruffles his hair. 

“But that’s not all,” Dongju continues. “Maybe we can also--”

Suddenly, the lock to the front door clicks, and they both freeze. 

“What’s all this?” Geonhak’s characteristically deep voice rings across the apartment. 

“Nothing,” Dongju squeaks. He could tell that he’s barely audible. Seoho echoes this, but he’s a bit louder. 

“Wait, I know exactly what’s going on here.” Seoho’s blocking the entrance to the fort so Dongju can’t see Geonhak’s face, but upset clings to each word he says. “You guys built a couch fort  _ without me _ ?”

* * *

Seoho and Dongju end up making it up to Geonhak by building a much bigger blanket fort with him in the bedroom. It was an absolute blast. But when the next day rolled around, it was time to put their plan into motion. 

As always, Geonhak wakes up at precisely six-thirty, and it must have been alarming for him to wake up to an empty bed considering he’s usually the first one out. His two boyfriends couldn’t usually be called morning people, but today, things are different. Dongju hums as he makes breakfast, and Seoho’s just about finished his latest round of Splatoon in the living room area. 

“Oh, look who’s finally up!” Seoho says cheerily as Geonhak stumbles out of the bedroom. There’s a moment of suspense as the two cats on the screen calculate the amount of turf colored by each team, but 69% on the  _ Good Guys _ side marks a sweeping victory for his team.

Geonhak tips his head to the side, blinking like a newly hatched chick. “Morning, sunshine.” He then nods at Dongju. “Baby.” And Dongju smiles to himself. 

“Take a seat!” He tells him, lifting the pan to theatrically flip the eggs. They each land perfectly on the other side, which draws an impressed gasp from Seoho. “Breakfast will be ready in a moment.”

“No, don’t do that,” Seoho says smoothly, shifting from his comfortable position on the couch to make room. “Doya, get your Switch. I’m sure we can fit in a couple of games before breakfast.”

This is how Dongju and Seoho usually fight; by acting as normal as they possibly can, though Geonhak can absolutely tell that when they’re fighting because when they fight, they very obviously scramble for his attention. But now, although Geonhak probably and hopefully thinks they’re fighting, they’re  _ not  _ fighting. They’re  _ pretending  _ to fight so that he would have no reason to suspect that they’re in cahoots whenever he notices anything weird, which also happens to involve them pretending to not fight while they’re actually fighting while they’re actually not fighting. Fourth-dimensional big brain time. No,  _ fifth dimensional absolutely colossal _ brain time. 

And, as always, Geonhak decides to not take sides. Instead, he opts to go into their spare room to do his morning workouts. When suddenly he stops at the doorway, Dongju grins evilly and Seoho snickers. Everything is going according to plan. 

“What’s up, Doya? Aren’t you going to work out?” Seoho calls. He’s on another round now. Dongju glances over for a second, and wow is the other team kicking his ass. 

“Maybe later,” Geonhak says idly. “It’s all-- I don’t-- it all feels wrong. Maybe I’ll just have breakfast first. Baby, is breakfast ready yet?”

Dongju and Seoho share a moment of eye contact. If it weren’t for the fact that Geonhak is standing like three feet away, they would’ve been laughing like supervillains. The first phase of Operation-- actually, they never had a name for this whole thing-- is a success. 

“Sure is,” Dongju replies, dumping the eggs onto a plate. From the living room, Seoho yells in frustration, and it doesn’t seem to pertain to the fact that breakfast is ready. He must have lost his game.

After breakfast, Geonhak tries walking into the spare room again. Approximately thirty minutes later, he walks out, sweaty and rugged and practically  _ glowing  _ like always, but there’s something different about his expression. Something haunted. 

“I’m going to work,” Seoho announces, putting on his coat. “Geonhak, you should too. You wouldn’t want to be late, would you?” 

“Y-yeah,” Geonhak says, as if breaking out from a trance. 

After the two of them leave, Dongju has the apartment to himself for a bit, so he moves all the items on the kitchen counter before heading off to class. 

He finds himself grinning again. They’d only enacted the first phase of their prank, which is Seoho’s original idea. If this had managed to affect Geonhak this much, he could only imagine what the next phases of their plan would do to him.

* * *

Dongju’s usually the last to leave the house every day, so it’s fitting that he’s usually the last one to return. 

Geonhak greets him from the couch with a wave and a lazy smile. He’s watching reruns of One Piece, and living with him means that Dongju can now pinpoint the exact season, episode, and minute that he’s currently on. 

“Come here,” Geonhak says with his arms spread wide, deep voice gentle yet commanding. Dongju obediently struts over and takes a seat on top of his lap. Geonhak immediately hooks his chin over his shoulder and wraps his arms around his comparatively tiny waist, holding him fast. 

Dongju leans into his touch. “How was work?”

“Work went fine,” Geonhak tells him, swiping a thumb over his lips and making him giggle. “I’m giving my class a test tomorrow, so I guess they decided to be extra good today. I might go easy on them.”

“Have you ever not gone easy on them?” Dongju says with a touch of light laughter, poking at his cheeks. “I bet they think you’re a big softie.”

“Shut up! I can be strict when I need to be.” 

Now, Geonhak’s told him many of his school stories, and most of them tend to involve him being moved to tears by whatever a student does. From what Dongju can recall, the harshest punishment he’d ever doled out had been putting one of the troublemakers in his class on time out for blowing spitballs during arts and crafts, and he’d let them go about halfway through because _ he felt bad about it. _

“Right,” Dongju says, making his voice sound as obviously unconvinced as he could muster.

“How were your classes, baby?” Geonhak asks him, smoothly changing the subject, and Dongju suddenly finds him much too endearing to keep poking fun at. “Hey, stop that. Don’t bite me.” 

“Mm,” Dongju hums, pushing Geonhak’s arm away from his mouth, putting his feet up on the armrest, and sprawling over the couch. “Like always, I guess. Could be better, could be worse. Hey, where’s Seoho?”

Geonhak’s mouth suddenly curves into a frown. “Bedroom, I think. Said he wanted to sleep early today.”

“Seriously? It’s like five.” Dongju matches Geonhak’s frown. “I guess that’s what waking up so early does to you.” Suddenly, he breaks out into a theatrical yawn. “Tell you what. I can use a nap just about now, too.” 

“It’s like  _ five _ ,” Geonhak says confusedly, echoing his words. “I wake up that early, too? Are you guys okay? Are you feeling alright, baby?” 

He emphasizes the question by holding his palm against Dongju’s forehead. Dongju bats it away with a faked grin. 

“Perfectly fine, babe. Just need a bit of rest.” It takes a bit of struggling to fight his way out of Geonhak’s grasp, but when Geonhak gets the picture, he lets him go. “We can't all be early birds like you.”

“If you say so.” Geonhak shoots him an expression of such genuine concern that, not for the first time, Dongju feels bad about his and Seoho’s elaborate prank scheme. “Rest well, baby. I love you.”

“Love you too!” And with that, Dongju rushes into their bedroom, almost slamming the door behind him. 

“Hey, Ju,” Seoho says as soon as he walks in. 

He’s scrolling through his phone instead of sleeping like Geonhak said he would be. The lights are off, leaving only the harsh blue light of his screen, and he’s tucked snugly into the bed, bare shoulders poking out of the blanket. The sight makes Dongju want to coo. So, naturally, Dongju barrels over and jumps on top of him. 

“Oof! What’s that for? Hey, you’re crushing me!”

“Any news?” Dongju asks as he struggles to get comfortable, resting his head on top of Seoho’s chest. “Did you see Hak go into the kitchen today?” 

“Mhm. He went in to get a snack just after coming home.” Seoho reaches forward to scratch the top of Dongju’s head. “I heard him yell something. I think he almost tripped over the trash can.”

“Ah, just the trash can?” Dongju pouts and slumps over. Seoho wraps his free arm around his shoulders. “That’s disappointing. I moved everything.”

“Everything?” Seoho suddenly turns his phone off, glancing at him in shock. 

“The pots and pans. The bakeware. The ramen. Everything,” Dongju confirms. 

“Dinner’s going to be fun, then,” Seoho giggles, leaning over to press a kiss onto the top of his head. “You’re so much worse than I thought you’d be, Ju. What’d he do to tick  _ you  _ off?”

“Maybe he didn’t. Maybe I’m just trying to be annoying like you.” Dongju yawns, genuinely this time, and rolls off Seoho to lie next to him. “Did you get phase two started?” 

“Touche,” Seoho says with a smile. “And yeah. What do you take me for? We made a plan, I’m sticking to it.” Dongju bites back a retort about Seoho not being the type to make, much less follow plans at all. 

“Excellent,” Dongju says, and this time, they do laugh like supervillains. Unfortunately, they’ve forgotten that Geonhak is basically sitting right outside.

“Hey! Use your indoor voices!” Geonhak yells faintly, and that has Dongju rolling his eyes at how much of an elementary school teacher he is. “Didn’t you guys say you were going to sleep?”

“He couldn’t resist laughing at my jokes,” Seoho calls back. “I’m so charming and hilarious, it’s only natural.”

Dongju harshly elbows Seoho on his side. Seoho yelps in protest and they can hear Geonhak sigh all the way from the living room. 

* * *

Geonhak makes dinner, as is tradition on Thursdays. Dongju and Seoho sit at the dining table as they wait, quietly delighting at the way that Geonhak crashes around in the kitchen trying to figure out where everything is. After dinner, they collectively make the decision to watch a movie. And for the seventh time this month, they collectively make the decision to watch Bambi II because they couldn’t agree on anything on Netflix, and that’s the only movie they own on DVD for some reason. 

Seoho and Dongju make a show out of fighting for remote control privileges, but ultimately, they give it to Geonhak while exchanging a sly glance. 

For the first ten minutes, Geonhak hardly uses the remote, and if he notices anything amiss, he doesn’t say anything. At some point, Seoho excuses himself and volunteers to go make popcorn, leaving Dongju alone with Geonhak. And that’s when Geonhak finally speaks up, frowning:

“Baby, I think there’s something wrong with the disc.” 

Dongju shifts nervously on Geonhak’s lap. “Oh? Why do you say that?”

“The colors,” Geonhak says, gesturing at the screen. “Don’t they look a bit off to you?”

And Dongju has to fight down a snicker. That particular detail was part of phase two of their plan, though it hadn’t exactly been meant for Movie Night. Seoho had changed the contrast of the television screen, as well as Geonhak’s PC screen just enough to affect visibility in video games, though not enough for him to notice anything off at first. At least, that was the idea. 

“I think it looks fine, Hak,” Dongju says, snuggling even closer until he’s practically talking into Geonhak’s chest. “You worry so much.”

Geonhak hums, but he’s still wearing that frown on his face. “You’re right, baby. Maybe I do.”

Seoho returns with the popcorn shortly afterward. When Dongju makes grabby hands at the bag, he rudely holds it out of his reach. They don’t stop fighting over the popcorn for the rest of the movie’s runtime, but at some points, Seoho just couldn’t resist feeding him. 

At one point, Geonhak points at the screen, specifically at Bambi making puppy eyes.

“That expression. I swear, Dongju looks exactly like that when he’s upset.” 

“No way,” Seoho says, voice muffled through a mouthful of popcorn. “If Ju resembles any Disney character, it’s Snow White.”

“Don’t talk with food in your mouth, Elsa,” Geonhak chides, and that earns him a dirty glare.

Eventually, Dongju complains about the volume, and Geonhak tries to turn it down on the remote. Unfortunately for him, the remote has been completely reprogrammed save for the power button and a couple of others, a result of Seoho using his tech-savviness for evil. Instead of controlling the volume, the volume down button skips the film ahead. When Geonhak tries to undo it, he ends up turning the volume  _ up  _ instead, and it takes him a solid ten minutes to sort everything out and make the movie normal again. Seoho and Dongju nearly laugh themselves to death in the background while holding hands in the popcorn bag. 

* * *

Once the weekend rolls around, Seoho finally delivers on his earlier promise and takes Dongju out for bubble tea. Geonhak doesn’t go with them on account of having too many assignments to mark from the week, so the two of them use this rare opportunity to discuss further steps in Operation Pranking Geonhak. 

“So,” Seoho says, poking a straw through his bubble tea cup. “I replaced all the pens in the house with empty ones. I bet he’s having a hell of a time marking right now.”

Dongju takes a sip out of his own drink, then raises an eyebrow at him. “Where did you get all those empty pens?” 

“My work bag? My office desk? Where else?” 

“So do you just. Never throw out your pens?” Dongju asks him incredulously.

Seoho throws his hands up defensively. “Hey, I found a use for them, didn’t I?” 

“But-- nevermind,” Dongju says. The clutter would’ve made his head hurt, but he already knows that Seoho works in mysterious ways, so he drops it. “You’re amazing, that’s genius, and I love you.” Seoho beams at that, a smile reaching his eyes, and it’s one of the things about him that never fails to make Dongju’s heart flutter all over again.

They make it back to the house just after one, and by that time, Geonhak’s still busy marking. To their delight, Geonhak has given up on finding a working pen and has since resorted to using one of Dongju’s pencil crayons usually reserved for craft projects. His grading almost blends in with the work of his elementary-aged students. 

And while Geonhak’s busy working and Seoho’s busy playing some very important video games, Dongju decides that he should join in on the productive spirit of this house and finally get some work done on that paper he’s been procrastinating on. However, when he makes an attempt to work his computer, the mouse fails to work. He frowns, unplugging it a few times to no avail.

Now, normally, he’d just give up on his paper and promise himself that he’ll do it some other day, but this is a time-sensitive matter. So instead, he begs Seoho for tech help. 

“Seoho, you’re good with this stuff, right?” Dongju asks, gesturing at his little workspace at the corner of the room. 

Seoho blinks at him. “Well, I’m a programmer, so I’d sure hope so. Let me take a look?”

He does, mostly trying all the things that Dongju already tried as if he thinks he hasn’t done them right. Then, he tries opening up the control panel and device manager, achieving a similar level of success, which is hardly any.

“Well. I’m out of ideas.” Seoho waves at the screen. “I don’t think it’s a problem with your computer, and I think we have some other mice lying around. You can try those.” And with that, he leaves, presumably to go back to playing his games. 

So Dongju sighs and unplugs the defective mouse. As soon as he lifts it off the mousepad, he notices something peculiar; there’s a piece of scotch tape stuck over the laser sensor. Once he takes it off, the mouse starts to work again.

Ah. 

* * *

It’s Sunday afternoon, and Geonhak and Seoho have both gone to the gym. They’d left just after Geonhak returned from the grocery store with his reusable bags filled to the brim with essentials and, more importantly, snacks.

Dongju had slept until noon, so when he leaves the bedroom in the afternoon, Seoho and Geonhak are already gone and all the groceries are in bags on the dining table, but the package of oreos is open and out. He rolls his eyes. The two of them have absolutely zero sense of responsibility. So he takes initiative and puts all the groceries away, rewarding himself with an oreo for all of his hard work. 

Except the cream filling isn’t cream filling. It’s  _ toothpaste _ , the oldest trick in the book. Dongju spits it out and shakes his head. 

Now, there were only two possible suspects, and Dongju’s mind jumps immediately to Seoho. He’s the type of person who would come up with and execute something like this. Because Dongju’s the only one in the house at this time, it’s clearly meant to target him. And the earlier incident with the mouse and the scotch tape... It seemed a bit weird that Seoho didn’t even bother to check the laser.

Oh, if Seoho wants a war this badly, he  _ will  _ get a war. 

For the next week, Dongju drafts and enacts a number of pranks on both Geonhak and Seoho. He hides hints for a treasure hunt that leads to nothing, and that drives Seoho crazy for a while. He draws spiders on a roll of toilet paper, and that’s enough to briefly spook Geonhak one morning, yelling out in outrage after realizing that they’re not real. 

And that isn’t to say that Dongju isn’t being pranked back. At one point, he wakes up with breakfast having been made for him; two eggs and a piece of toast shaped like a bear. The sentiment is tremendously sweet, but after he takes a bite out of an egg, he realizes that they’re just peaches placed on top of a pile of yogurt. One day, he comes back to the house and finds that the floor has been turned into a minefield of solo cups filled with water. He manages to pick them all up without tipping any of them over, but it certainly manages to confuse and frustrate him to no end.

The house becomes a battleground of shenanigans, and maybe it shouldn’t come as a surprise when Geonhak finally, apparently, snaps and calls a house meeting. 

“Alright, first off,” Dongju points a stern finger across the table, breaking the tense atmosphere. “He’s a traitor.”

Seoho gasps, putting a hand over his chest. “How? You’re the one who started pranking me for no reason!”

“You’re a terrible liar, you know what?”

“Ju, baby.” Seoho’s pouting now, cheeks all puffed up and cute, but cute doesn’t necessarily equate to trustworthy. Dongju himself is living proof of that. “Do you really think I’d lie to you?”

“Yes!” Dongju says frustratedly. “Absolutely yes!”

Dongju and Seoho go back and forth while Geonhak sits at the end of the table in silence. It somehow doesn’t occur to Dongju that his other boyfriend hadn’t said anything throughout this entire emergency meeting until he begins to quietly chuckle to himself.

Geonhak’s wearing a shit-eating grin, resting his chin on top of his clasped hands like some anime antagonist. He only needs a pair of flashing glasses to complete the look. 

“Oh, you think I wouldn’t realize that someone moved my workout equipment?” 

“Now that you mention it, no. That was sort of dumb.” Dongju turns to Seoho. “Why did we have to do that again?”

“Be quiet,” Seoho hisses. 

And Geonhak continues. “I knew that you two were up to something from the very start. The furniture, the remote controller, the television screen.” He shakes his head. “I couldn’t stand for that. I had to retaliate. But I couldn’t just prank you both, that would be much too easy. So.”

“You framed Seoho,” Dongju says, slowly piecing it all together. “The mouse trick. You knew I’d call him for help.”

“And I turned you against each other.” Geonhak spreads out his arms. “Look how well it all worked. It was practically child’s play.”

Dongju glances at Seoho. Seoho glances back with an odd, unreadable expression. Something like  _ I told you so _ , which makes zero sense because who came up with this whole thing again?

“Fine,” Seoho says with a heavy sigh. “You got us good. Now what? What was it all for?”

“I don’t know, I didn’t start it.” Geonhak shrugs. “I guess you both owe me bubble tea?”

* * *

The aftermath of the Great Prank War is disastrous, but slowly, life returns back to normal. All the furniture gets moved back into place. Every piece of technology in the house that has been tampered with becomes un-tampered with, though Seoho still can’t quite figure out how to change the television screen back to its exact contrast settings. 

“We’re home!” Seoho announces, clinging tightly to Dongju’s arm. Dongju kicks off his shoes and sets Geonhak’s cup of bubble tea (strawberry milk tea with pearls and rainbow jelly) down on the coffee table, then immediately places himself on Geonhak’s lap, effectively blocking the laptop screen in front of them.

“Still doing work?” He asks, putting his feet up on the couch.

“These report card comments won’t write themselves,” Geonhak says defeatedly, then runs a hand through Dongju’s hair. 

“There’s no harm in taking a break,” Dongju tells him, and he hums in response.

Seoho joins them shortly after sorting through all the clothes he and Dongju bought during their little shopping spree, situating himself next to Geonhak like the final piece of their little puzzle. Dongju immediately shifts over so that he’s lying on Seoho as well as Geonhak. Seoho smiles his bright, signature smile and Geonhak wraps his arms protectively around Dongju’s shoulders.  Dongju closes his eyes and thinks about how he’s the luckiest person in the world. 

**Author's Note:**

> hi ! i had no idea where i was going with this and i think you can prolly tell lmao :^) but yes these three are babies and i adore them so so much ! i found their dynamic interesting and i wanted to explore it a little ig. anyway it's almost 2am and im tired and i don't feel like proofreading so gn
> 
> talk to me on twitter! i'm @toemoon :D


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